Aubade
by cranberieee
Summary: aubade /ōˈbäd/ noun - a poem or piece of music appropriate to the dawn or early morning. (Rated T just to be safe)


Aubade

AN: A sweet little ficlet. It can probably stand-alone but it was supposed to be the sorta sequel to Pirate Ships, my other story which you can find here = s/8686808/1/Pirate-Ships.

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He hums when he cooks.

Antonio was not the type of person who particularly paid attention to what he was doing but whenever he cooked, he always finds himself humming some whispered song with distorted lyrics. It was as if he was pulling the melody out from some dream, fading quickly as his wakefulness increased.

A white wrinkled polo was carelessly pulled onto his tan body, Antonio left the buttons open since he liked to feel the morning breeze on him. He wore black boxer-briefs as he manoeuvred through the kitchen, collecting ingredients from cupboards and other things he needed in order to begin making breakfast.

"Vasquez…."

The Spaniard tapped the wooden spatula he held on his forehead. It was a little gesture he did whenever he had to look into his mental recipe book for a certain dish. He shook his head when he realised he couldn't remember the recipe so Antonio shrugged and decided to simply experiment with breakfast.

After all, everything that he cooks ends up more or less edible (and amazingly flavourful) unlike a certain blond with caterpillars for eyebrows.

Antonio chuckled as he cracked some eggs into a bowl. Oh yes, Arthur and his almost non-existent cooking skills. Contrary to popular belief, the personification of England can make a dish or two without bringing down the whole house via kitchen fire. Arthur's cooking just seems to be an acquired taste; living proof of that was him who's had the Brit's home cooking since he was a teenager. He smiled at the memory of the two of them, both very young again with a child Arthur in his green cloak, offering an almost teenage Antonio an open-fire roasted bird leg. He grinned, he recalled teaching Arthur the value of herbs that could be found in the little blond's forest afterwards.

The sound of a stifled groan brought Antonio back into the kitchen, his body seemingly on auto-pilot was beating the eggs in the bowl. His green eyes looked to the door of the bedroom where he had come from earlier, waiting for a blond head to pop out of the threshold. He gave a small smile when he came to the conclusion that it was too early for his bedmate to be up.

Antonio had little flashes of last night replaying in his mind. He smiled to himself as he remembered how the feel of his fingers on the other' skin, he can never get over the feeling. Fluttery warmth made its presence known in his stomach, Antonio sighed as he added some spices to the eggs mixture. He chuckled when a mocking voice, amusingly close to Francis', in his head told him that he was so very whipped.

He honestly wouldn't have had it any other way.

Once the mixture was deemed ready, Antonio poured it on the pan that he had coated with olive oil earlier. The eggs' smell began to waft around the kitchen and Antonio was sure that the sillage would find its way into the room. It had happened before and he wouldn't be surprised if it happened again.

Soon enough as he poked the eggs around with his spatula, Antonio heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. He had half a mind to turn around and give his companion a little kiss but that train of thought crashed as a pair of arms encircled his waist and a pale chin rested on his shoulder.

"G'morning," Arthur huffed quietly near the Spaniard's ear before the blond gave him a little cheek kiss.

"Good morning to you too," Antonio chirped as he leaned his cheek onto the other's nest of hair, resting it there while the Briton slumped on him, content with watching Antonio cook.

The pair had stood in silence, basking in each other's quiet comfort. Antonio did not know that he started humming. He only noticed it when he felt Arthur's body slightly stiffen as if surprised. He didn't comment on it though. Well, not until the eggs were done and he had turned off the stove. He set the spatula down and turned to face Arthur, careful not to break the other's embrace.

"Que?" He tilted his head in question of Arthur's obvious flustered expression.

"That song-" Arthur had started but stopped, his face showing that he was obviously calculating what he should say next, "-where did you hear it?"

Antonio didn't know how to answer that; he simply shrugged in response before draping his arms around the other's neck. They were almost the same height, give or take a few hair strands.

"I don't know but it's been with me for a while," a while being a sort of understatement, it was more like forever but the brunette kept that to himself, "but I only seem to sing it when I'm feeling pretty good."

And feeling like nothing could go wrong with the world. Antonio also kept that to himself since he really didn't know where the song came from and he didn't want to give Arthur the wrong impression especially with how the Brit initially reacted.

Arthur's lips twitched into a shy smile as he bumped their foreheads softly together. The blond then placed soft kisses on his nose and chin then proceeded to trace Antonio's lips with his own in a slow yet chaste kiss.

Sometimes, Antonio hums when they kiss.


End file.
